Nick Nolte sure does contain multitudes. He can wax on and on to GQ about the wonders of the drug GHB (“other than falling asleep in some awkward places, I just didn’t have any problems with it”), or he can bemoan the political philosophies that he says ruined his relationship with Martin Scorsese. “Scorsese won’t have anything to do with me,” Nolte says.
The rift stems from the 1999 Oscars, where Nolte refused to applaud when Scorsese presented Elia Kazan with a lifetime achievement award — even though Kazan had named names for the House Committee on Un-American Activities. “I’m hurt. And obviously I hurt Marty. But it was a terrible situation,” Nolte says. “Actors should not have been put in that position to be able to be judged over whether they applauded or not.” Also, he lives in a strange house:
In his living room, next to a cage for the crow Nolte and his son recently adopted, are a basket of didgeridoos and a multitude of drums and bongos. When I ask about this equipment, Nolte explains matter-of-factly, as though he imagines this is pretty much the same in most modern homes, “That becomes kind of a Hare Krishna temple every once in a while.” And that he also hosted a peace party there. “You know,” he clarifies. “For peace.” (I suspect these walls couldn’t be surprised by anything. The Eagles once owned this house, and before that it belonged to Tommy Chong.)
No one Nick Noltes quite like Nick Nolte.
